Prescriptive Pile 1 & 2

I had a lengthy conversation with my good friend Jolens RN since the last time I saw her at Dôme early August. She's doing well I suppose despite the fact that she's knee-deep in academic and social work in Nursing Psychiatry. I don't know why but weirdly enough, I don't feel envious of her. I mean, Psychology has always been one of my first choices in a career, but lately (as I might have already mentioned) I'm not so sure anymore. Were my relatives right? Was I just in a common adolescent phase of self-exploration during college that I wanted to take up Psych for the sake of knowing myself better, rather than the notion that I wanted to make a career out of it? Again, I'm not sure anymore. Maybe it's like the story of my dreams, I've held on to them for so long with so many attempts denied, perhaps I simply gave up on ever achieving them then settled for something more within my reach. I think may have settled for a second-rate goal (or maybe I still have my goals intact but settled for a second-rate place to sink my knees deep into). Is this kind of inevitable compromise a bad thing? Or was it really ridiculous of me to want to have it all (because I felt I can)? And is this failure-slash-compromise the thing that really depressed me a couple of months ago? .... I can't help but wonder.

Anyway, after all that talk about stormy weather and bright skies and sh*t, I feel I'm in a better place right now. Not perfect or super-fantastic, just better. There was one night while I was staring out the window towards a wall with maya droppings on the window sill that I realized, maybe it IS all just a matter of perspective. Maybe it's true that all we need is to be flipped over from our bellies and we'd be able to breathe all right. I mean, it may be difficult to do that at the lowest point in your life, but maybe if one just hangs on and pulls through the trial by fire, just maybe, one would be able to see the light of day. Call me a hypocrite (or Jean D' Arc incarnate) and read me out my previous postings on death and existential chastisement, but this is how I feel right now. This gently appreciating my waking life did not happen overnight like the last time (when I posted that Bob Marley song and was all perky). This new found "sobriety" came to me gradually, like say, growing up. I had to deal with it somehow and tried to see everything the way it really was. It wasn't anything profound or earth-shattering a realization, more of simply stating out facts, wallowing in them a little bit (or maybe a lot), and then getting tired of these facts then continue on searching for the truth with renewed vigor. This I realized at a night when everything was so peaceful, so dark, that when I turned my head to look back inside my room, everything was undisturbed. Everything was a mess anyhow, but it was my mess and from now on, I made an informed decision to try to throw away the garbage I don't need, to try to eliminate the emotional luggage I keep holding on to. My room may be quaint and undisturbed at night, but I don't want to be trapped and undisturbed like that forever.
I cannot be as complacent as my parents. No, not at my age, 16.